


Life Happens

by ship_to_wreck



Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Jess is a stubborn little shit as per usual, Post-Series, Unresolved Emotional Tension, basically Jess and Luke are friends with benefits until.... it's not that simple anymore, guess what the surprise element in this fic is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-15 12:26:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12321063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ship_to_wreck/pseuds/ship_to_wreck
Summary: So here's the thing: None of this had ever been part of Jessica's plans and she definitely hadn't seen it coming. And she surely didn't mean to get Luke involved in this mess—or Trish, or Malcolm, for that matter. But shedidhave the worst luck ever so she figured she kind of had to deal with this thing now.And, frankly, all things considered, it wasn't the worst possible scenario......Or was it?





	Life Happens

**Author's Note:**

> So first things first, this fic was 100% inspired by [With You I Become Again](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3807610) by [writergirl8](http://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl8/pseuds/writergirl8), which is one of my all time favorite fics. I read that fanfic back in 2015 and I absolutely loved the premise, and I just knew that I wanted to try and write something like that for one of my ships one day. Then I watched Jessica Jones and immediately decided "that's it, that's the ship".
> 
> Because the characters and their dynamic are so different, the story follows a different path, of course, but that fic still had a huge influence on my writing, that's for sure.
> 
> Originally, I was writing this monster of a fic for the Defenders Big Bang, but real life got in the way and I didn't finish it in time. After watching Defenders, however, I was reminded of how much I love Jessluke and how much I missed them, so I decided to just stop procrastinating and get this done. Finally, several months later, here it is.
> 
> Warnings for: PTSD mentions, alcohol abuse, sexual content, language, (I mean, it's Jess lmao), and mentions of abuse. Spoilers for _The Defenders_ and _Jessica Jones_.
> 
> I hope you like reading this fic as much I liked writing it. I'll shut up now and leave you alone to read. Enjoy! :) xx

 

 

 

 _I’m glad our stories intertwined and we shared a chapter in our books.  
— __[kj-knight](https://wnq-writers.com/post/163728793004/im-glad-our-stories-intertwined-and-we-shared-a)_  

 

* * *

 

 

  
Jessica couldn’t bring herself to remember the last time she had enjoyed Christmas.

Alright, maybe she  _could_ , if she actually took the time to think about that, which she never did, because she couldn’t always trust her brain anyway.

She  _did_ remember Christmas lights decorating Christmas trees that were too tall and expensive and placed in a living room that was always devoid of life. She remembered the sound of fake laughter, and dysfunctional people pretending to act normal for a couple hours as if there were hidden cameras capturing their every move. And suddenly, all she could remember was long, quiet dinners at the Walkers’ household and Dorothy’s disgusted face as Trish finished her meal.

Those nights usually ended with Jessica stealing bottles of wine from the kitchen and drinking alone in her bedroom (an empty room at the far end of the corridor that had been turned into some sort of bedroom) in a vain attempt to distract herself from the horror show Dorothy always pulled after dinner.

In some corner of her brain, she could recall some calmer evenings she had spent with Trish after Jessica had finally managed to drag her out of that hellhole. That was until Trish's manager decided to start throwing this big party for everyone that worked with her at the radio station every year. Then it was just… same inferno, different circles of hell.

And _then_. Then the devil himself had drawn a line in Jessica's life separating it between _Before_ and _After_. The life of _Before_ was just blurred memories, while the life of _After_ was something she was still trying to figure out what to do with. And Jessica was good at solving mysteries but terrible at getting her shit together. Whatever. She had got time.

Especially tonight when the entire city was reunited with their families and loved ones to pretend their lives sucked a little bit less than it really did, while wearing fancy clothes and drinking fancy drinks and eating an obnoxious amount of food. She had already done all of that at the party with Trish and all of her fake and irritating friends from work. She was done pretending for tonight.

Which was _exactly_ why she needed more alcohol.

Jess had not, however, planned to get it _here_. In all fairness, she had planned to stay as far away from this place as geographically possible in a place the size of New York. Once, Jessica had heard of this thing called muscle memory and apparently the memory of her muscles were against her because her legs had brought her here without her consent. And now she stood across the street, staring at the windows of the all too familiar bar, with an unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her feel a little uneasy. But she was already here, and she was freezing, so she might as well come in and drink something.

The tiny bell above the door rang unapologetically when she walked into the bar. The air was warm and smelled of meat and beer and drunk men and dirty jokes. She felt more relaxed, suddenly, as she plopped down onto one of the stools by the counter and stretched one leg all the way over the next one.  
  
The face that welcomed her was a different one than she had expected.  
  
"Looks like we have a not so unexpected visitor," said Roy in that taunting, lecturing tone of his that made him sound half like a father and half like a really boring grandpa who always told you things you didn't want to hear.  
  
Jessica tilted her head slightly to one side and kept eye contact until Luke emerged from the back of the bar holding an empty bottle of vodka and a few empty glasses. Two of them were broken. Apparently, she had missed all the fun.  
  
Something flickered in Luke's eyes when he saw her, the creases between his eyebrows vanishing. Jess lifted her chin as a greeting, Luke simply nodded in return.  
  
"Night's over Roy," he said, causing something to stir behind Jessica's belly button.

How long had it been since the last time she had seen him? Two months. Two months, one week, three days, and a few hours. And she should not know that, and she should not be counting, and she should not be sitting here staring at his back and thinking about how much his absence had bothered her over those two fucking months.

Missing him had never been part of the plan. Then again, with Luke, nothing was really part of a plan. Things just kind of happened, and then, when she came back to her senses, it was too late to regret it, or forget it.  
  
"Alright. Then good night, Boss," Roy answered, removing his apron and coming out from behind the counter.  
  
"G'night, Roy. See you tomorrow."  
  
"Merry Christmas."  To Jessica, he said, "Good night." Which, _yeah_ —he didn't like her.  
  
She nodded at him once. "Night."  
  
The air became almost too thin once it was just her and Luke and two drunk guys sitting at a table in the far corner of the room, slurring some shit she couldn’t—and didn’t want to—understand.  
  
"What do you want?" Luke asked, and if she didn't know better she would think he was being hostile.  
  
"What's the promotion tonight?" she replied, leaning back on the stool.  
  
Luke tilted his head and arched his eyebrows. It was unnerving how much she liked the shape of his eyebrows. Almost as much as she liked the shape of his lips. "You know it's still Christmas, right?"    
  
Dodging the real question behind his words, she said, "Does it mean I get free drinks?"  
  
The corner of his lips turned up just slightly, and Jessica felt something buzzing in the tips of her fingers. She pressed them hard against the surface of the counter, then relaxed again before the wood cracked under her touch.  
  
"Thought you'd be with your friend tonight," he said casually as he filled a glass with whiskey. The good kind of whiskey. Expensive shit. She was sure Trish had one of those somewhere in her apartment for when Jess came over.  
  
"I was," she replied, trying not to think about the fact that he knew what she’d been doing because she had allowed him to know it. To know _her_.  
  
That also had never been part of the plan.  
  
"But I needed a drink and it just happened that your bar was the nearest."  
  
He looked skeptical. "Harlem's the nearest place you could find to drink?"  
  
She shrugged, downing the contents of her glass. The burn in her throat was welcome. "You don't know where the party is being held."    
  
Luke made a sound in the back of his throat that was too close to a chuckle. "All right."  
  
He turned his back to her again as he started to wipe the counter and Jessica thought about the first time she had walked into his bar and his life, three years ago, just when the beginning of the end was starting. There were... infinite stuff between now and then, and yet, sitting here with a glass of whiskey in her hands was the steadiest thing in her life right now.  
  
"I just don't like family holidays," she said to his back, because certain things were easier to say when she couldn't see his eyes. He looked at her over his shoulder to encourage her to continue. "I can't go to my apartment. There’s this old lady that lives on the floor below mine and her annoying family gathers there every year. They stay up until she passes out on the couch and then they freak out because they think she's dead."  
  
This time, Luke laughed. His shoulders shaking slightly as he shook his head. "Tell me they sing Christmas songs until morning."  
  
Jessica rolled her eyes. "Precisely the reason why I'm here." She pointed to her empty glass. "And why I need more of this. So I'll pass out before she does."  
  
The two guys stood up and walked out, leaving the money on their table. Luke took it and stuffed the bills into his back pocket.  
  
"You only came here to drink." It was both a statement and a question, so she just stared at him and waited. "Well, you could do that, or we could go grab some food."  
  
And that was when she should have stood up and walked right out the door. So, naturally, she stayed.

"Why?" she incited.

Luke shrugged. "You're bored, I've got nothing to do." He paused, then added as an afterthought, "It wouldn't be too bad to spend the rest of the night with someone I know."  
  
_With the only person I know who is just as lonely as I am_ , was what Jessica understood from his words.  
  
Except that was a lie. She had Trish and Malcolm. Luke had Claire, Danny, Matt, and some other people in Harlem that she didn't know but _he_ did. They had places to be and friends to be with. And yet they were _here_. Because they wanted to be. It was a choice. And they had been choosing each other for three years now.  
  
Jessica didn't think she deserved it. And if she were a better person she would have stayed away.  
  
However.  
  
"Okay," she said, standing up and fixing the scarf around her neck. It was getting colder. "Where to?"  
  
Luke smiled, and something inside her warmed up. "I know just the right place."  
  
  
                                                    

* * *

  
  
  
Hot-dogs were probably the best invention in the world after alcoholic beverages, peanut butter, the internet, and coffee.  
  
She had just finished her second one and—shit she could almost _see_ Trish in the back of her mind with her eyebrows raised and her arms crossed because _"Seriously, Jess, you shouldn’t ingest that many carcinogens"_. She had mentioned something about cancer once. Jessica had argued that she would probably heal before the thing had a chance to kill her. She had no fucking clue if that was true. She wasn’t worried about that.  
  
"Can I have some coffee?" she asked the lady with too much lipstick who was working at the hot-dog cart tonight. When she returned her attention to Luke, he was sucking his water through a straw; the thing tightly pinched between his lips. Jess forced herself not to stare.

"So Danny beat up those assholes and then what?" she asked, as if she hadn't spaced out a few minutes ago and kind of lost track of what he was saying. She blamed his lips and the straw. People distracted her.  
  
"We both ended up at Claire's. Told him to stay out of it next time."  
  
"Because you got it handled," she deadpanned. There were very few things that Luke couldn't handle.  
  
Being lied to was one. Losing people he cared about was another.

Jessica thought that maybe they dealt with some things the same way. Perhaps that was why they were here.

Luke stopped drinking his water, put his plastic cup down, studied her face for a while. She stared right back because she never knew what to do when his eyes were so tender. She could deal with lust, she could deal with regret, or even anger. Tenderness was something she was still learning about. So she stayed still, her heart pounding in her throat.  
  
"How’s work?" he prompted, and it took her a moment to assimilate the genuine interest behind his words. Jess shifted in her seat. She had nothing interesting to say.  
  
"Malcolm's far more excited about the whole business than I am." Luke tilted his head in a way that said ' _of course_ '. She ignored him. "But we've been making more money. So there's that."  
  
"Still working odd hours?"  
  
"Occupational hazard," she responded, taking a sip of her coffee. "Better than being shot at every time I fight someone." Although it did happen every once in a while.  
  
Luke shrugged. "You gotta do what you gotta do."  
  
Jessica furrowed her brow. "I guess."  
  
And maybe, she thought, that was what she loved the most about these moments with Luke. The calmness of it all. It was the closest thing to normalcy she would ever get. A friend to talk to, a friend who she had casual sex with, a friend with whom she liked to go out, a friend who she could picture in her life for longer than a few weeks. It was comforting. Reliable. Not love or anything like that. Just something deeper than lips upon lips and bodies moving against sheets. Although she liked that part too. _Really_ liked it. _A lot._

"Wanna go somewhere else?" She was inciting, and she knew it, and she knew—lord she _knew_ _—_ she had promised not to do it again. But she had done it at least ten times before, so one last time wouldn't kill anyone.  
  
Well. She hoped not.  
  
If the look in his eyes was anything to go by, he knew exactly what she was suggesting.  
  
There was a smile in his words when he responded, "Have anything in mind?"  
  
She was sure her face gave away the answer.  
  
  
                                                    

* * *

  
  
  
Jessica had grown to really like Luke's new apartment over the past couple of years. Generally, she would feel a little out of place anywhere that wasn’t her messy, crumbling-down, dump of an apartment. But somewhere along the line, the too organized and well decorated space where he lived had stopped making her stomach churn. Which she thought was progress.

She did not mind it in the slightest when he pressed her up against the wall to press burning kisses against her collarbone, his large hands trailing down her spine and stopping at the small of her back. Did not care that she ruined his shirt when she tugged at it a little too hard and ended up tearing it open on the front, too absorbed in the feeling of his lips against her skin to focus on anything else. Losing touch with reality wasn’t really her thing, but when she was this close to Luke, it was inevitable.

It was his lips. Had always been his lips and the things he could _do_ to her body when using them. Jess couldn’t feel her face or her tongue or the floor beneath her, could only feel his hands between her legs and over her breasts, his tongue on her throat, his teeth brushing her shoulder, his skin against her bare chest, and his _goddamn lips_ moving lower and lower, reaching the edge of her jeans, just under her belly button.

Usually, this was when she pulled away. When she grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up to kiss him while he fucked her hard. Tonight, however, she let him open her jeans and slip it down her already weak legs. Let him run a finger over her black panties. Let him gingerly spread her legs and duck his head between her thighs. She braced herself against the doorframe, not even remembering to hold back a little (it cracked and— _fuck_ , there went the first thing they’d broken here in three months). She wrapped one leg around his neck, the other draped over his shoulder, and stayed there until something began to coil inside her in a way that was almost painful. Then she squirmed against him, pulling slightly away.  
  
"Luke.” He stopped immediately, his eyes meeting hers. "Bed. Now."  
  
She didn't have to say it twice. With him, she never did. He wrapped his arms around her waist and carried her to his room, carefully placing her on the mattress, even though they both knew he didn’t have to be this gentle because she wouldn’t break that easily. But it was Luke and he didn’t know how to do it any differently.  
  
It was torture, really, to have him like this. Which was why she moaned when she felt him finally inside her, finally as close as humanly possible. She gripped the sheets in one fist and his skin in the other, marveling at the serene expression on his face as she bounced on top of him. He splayed a hand on her thighs, the other moving over her back, up and down, anchoring her as she broke, digging her nails into his skin until it hurt.  
  
Later, when they were both lying under his covers, he kissed the top of her head as she listened to his steady heartbeat.  
  
For a second or two, she considered the possibility of a life where she wasn’t constantly on the run (from the world, from herself, from _him_ ).  
  
Reason why she was glad she had to leave in the morning.  
  
  
                                                       

* * *

 

The sun had just risen when she left his apartment with yesterday’s underwear and the smell of Luke’s sheets in her hair. The smell lingered for days. She was sure the memories would never fade.

Jess didn’t contact him for the six weeks that followed.

 

* * *

 

For a whole week, Jessica went about her business as if nothing had changed.

Got up sometime between 12pm and 15pm, brushed her teeth, had cereal and milk for breakfast, turned on her laptop to do some digging, interrupted her investigation to throw up a few minutes later, went back to work, left the house when it was dark outside, took pictures for evidence, chased a few assholes, came back home feeling as though the Stark Tower had crumbled on top of her, went to bed. Repeat.

It was easy, really, the simplest thing, to avoid thinking about the matter at hand and just pretend she had been feeling like shit because she had caught a cold or something. Which was probably the dumbest coping mechanism since she knew damn well she didn’t get sick like other people did. Enhanced healing was one of the perks of not being... well, normal.

She wished this was one of those things that would just go away when ignored, but her body was persistent. Plus it didn’t take a genius to do simple Math and comprehend probability, and Jess was well aware that she was not at all lucky.

So on day nine of suffering and quietly fooling herself, she pulled her hoodie up over her head and left her apartment at two o'clock, keeping her eyes on the sidewalk as she trotted down the street towards the nearest drugstore she could find. Jess was literally going to spend a good twenty-four bucks on these things. She hoped it’d give her some good news, at least.  
  
(Ha. Yeah right.)  
  
Jessica bought three pregnancy tests and shoved them into her pockets, storming out of the drugstore before the old guy behind the counter with a creepy smile had a chance to open his mouth, because she was not in the mood to punch any asshat today. Not right now, at least.  
  
She counted the steps back to her apartment (316, which she would have been thankful for in any other circumstance, but definitely not today) and considered standing outside a little longer just to avoid Malcolm in the elevator, but she had drunk a whole bottle of iced tea that morning and kind of really needed to pee. Jess shoved her hands deeper into her pockets, fingers curling around the rectangular boxes tight enough to dent them, and braced herself.  
  
"Jessica, where the hell have you been?" he asked, eyes far too alarmed and an urgency to his voice typical of someone who had got used to looking over his shoulder all the damn time. She was familiar with that.  
  
"Out." She kept her gaze on the elevator doors as they slid closed.

The problem with Malcolm and Trish was that both of them used this very soft and slightly reprimanding tone when they spoke to her, which for some goddamn reason managed to rip the truth out of her after only a few words. And if she was being honest, although it had been useful once or twice in the past, most of the time it was exceptionally infuriating.  
  
Right now, he rolled his eyes in a frustrated-but-understanding way. It was just as irritating. "I mean for the past few days. I haven’t seen you at all."  
  
"Well, you're seeing me now."  
  
"You look pale."  
  
"I _am_ pale."  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Jessica breathed deeply to mask the fact that she was starting to feel nauseous. "I'm fine, Malcolm. I was just... slightly under the weather."  
  
Had this elevator ever been so goddamn _slow_? If she had broken through her window she would have got to her apartment faster. And avoided this conversation.  
  
"You can tell me if you, you know, need something. I live right here," he told her even as she walked ahead of him down the hallway. And goddamn him and Trish for worrying so much.  
  
"I know," she said, closing the door of her apartment behind her.  
  
Sitting on the toilet, she peed on the sticks, not so carefully placing them on the sink when she was done. She had never been much of a prayer and she was not about to start now, but if there was a Greater Force controlling the universe or whatever, she hoped It knew what It was doing.  
  
She left the sticks there, aligned side by side, face down, and headed to the living room to finish a case, decidedly _not_ checking the time on her laptop every few minutes.

It was three hours and a tormented nap later when she decided to check the results. One by one, she turned the sticks up.  
  
Positive. Positive. Positive.

Well. _Shit_.  
  
Jessica wasn’t sure if the complete numbness that enveloped her was a good or bad sign. Probably bad, considering she _should_ be freaking out. Instead, she broke the sticks in half and threw them into the trash bin next to the desk in her office, ignoring the fact that she was trembling.

(She did not tremble when she punched people, or broke into places, or faced the police. She had not trembled when she walked down a hotel hallway towards a room that was tainted with purple. She had not trembled when she carried a severed head into the police station. And she had not trembled when she felt the bones in Kilgrave’s neck snap between her fingers. But she was trembling now.)  
  
And the worst part? She couldn’t even have a goddamn drink.  
  
  
                                                   

* * *

 

New York was a really good place for people like Jessica, she concluded as she focused all her strength into her legs so she could take off.  Nobody really cared about anything as long as it didn’t directly affect them. It allowed her to jump really high, throw some assholes around, break into places, and climb the balcony of Trish's penthouse without being noticed. Which, _thank you everyone for not giving a shit_.  
  
The glass door was predictably closed, and Jessica contemplated breaking in before she remembered that Trish had already wasted enough time and money on her. She curled her hand into a fist, but before she had a chance to knock Trish emerged from her room, immediately spotting Jessica outside.

"Um, yeah, why use the door like a normal person would," Trish said when she opened the door, her eyebrows raised and her face unmoved.  
  
Jessica slipped in without looking her in the eye. "I called. You didn't answer the damn phone."  
  
"I was in the shower, and my phone is charging."  
  
“Yeah, well, last time you didn't answer my calls you were distracting yourself with a psycho ex-sergeant with anger issues, so I figured I should make sure you were alone this time."

The noise Trish made was half a snort and half a chuckle. “I’m alone.”  
  
Jess heard Trish closing the door, the soft noise echoing in the back of her head.  
  
"Something happened," Jess said before Trish could ask. She didn’t want Trish to have to rip this out of her.

"Visibly," Trish trailed the word. "Jess, can you stop doing that?"  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"Walking around like you always do when you get nervous and need to release some energy."  
  
Jess stopped. Looked at her. "No. I need to move."  
  
"What you need is to sit down so we can talk," Trish said, reaching for her arm and tugging her to the couch. "You want anything to drink?"  
  
Jess almost groaned at that. "Yeah. Give me some... water." Trish lifted her eyebrows at her, a mock smile on her lips.  "What? I drink things that don't contain alcohol sometimes."  
  
Trish didn’t ask questions, simply went to get a bottle of water out of the fridge. "Are you gonna tell me what is it that made you climb my apartment at half past eleven?"  
  
"Sorry. Were you going to bed?" she answered, frowning at the glass that Trish was offering her. Trish actually used a glass to drink water that was already bottled—talk about superfluous.

She hated it about herself; this thing where she would just assume that people were always available whenever she needed them. She would push them away for days (weeks, _months_ ) and then just appear out of nowhere with a ton of shit in her hands to throw at them.  
  
Still, Trish smiled that compassionate smile of hers and sat down beside Jess. "No, I mean it’s a little early for you to be indoors.”

Jessica had no fucking clue where or how this situation would end, but she was glad the ball of cells growing in her stomach would have someone like Trish in Its life.  
  
Jessica's eyebrows knitted together. "Well, I’ve spent a lot of time at home over the past few days."  
  
Trish nodded. "I know. Malcolm told me.”

Jess growled inwardly. _Goddamn it, Malcolm._  
  
Trish went on; "He also told me you pushed him away when he tried to help."  
  
Jessica scoffed. "What, are you close friends now?"  
  
Seriously. Did Trish and Malcolm just call each other before bed to complain about how much trouble Jessica could get herself into? Because it seemed like they did. And she... really did not need a lecture on how much of an asshole she could be right now.

"Jess," Trish said emphatically, eyebrows raised so high Jess was afraid it would merge with her hairline.

 She pushed the air out through her nose, took a large sip of her cool water, and sighed deeply. “Just—promise you won't freak out, okay?”  
  
"I think there's very little that can make me freak out at this point."  
  
Jessica was counting on that.  
  
She downed the glass of water pretending it was whiskey so it would give her courage. Then she decided to rip off the band-aid.  
  
"I'm pregnant."  
  
Trish blinked twice. "Are you serious?"  
  
"I’m a little early for April fools."  
  
"Oh."  
  
That was the only goddamn word that left Trish's mouth and, honestly, Jessica had made up several possible scenarios in her head in which Trish had different reactions to that statement, but none of them included silence as a plausible outcome.

It stretched for a few more seconds. Jess sucked her teeth. "Can you, like, say something?"  
  
Trish opened her mouth. Closed it again. Said, "I… did _not_ see that coming."  
  
"That makes two of us," Jessica said, going to refill her glass with more water.

"No, I mean... _what_ happened? _How_?"  
  
"Having sex has been known to lead to this kind of situation." _If_ people were careless, of course. And, frankly, if you looked up that word in the dictionary, the definition would probably just say ' _Jessica Jones_ ', in capitals, and bolded.  
  
Trish rolled her eyes but, surprisingly, thankfully, didn’t voice her disapproval. "I know. I mean I didn't even know you were seeing someone."  
  
"I'm not... _seeing_ anyone." The word tasted like loss on her tongue. She couldn’t define what had been happening between her and Luke. Never thought she would have to.  
  
She should have known life would screw her up once more.  
  
"So it was a one-night stand?" The evident, overflowing concern in Trish’s eyes was making her anxious. No matter how hard Jess tried she just kept on disappointing her.  
  
She shook her head. "No."  
  
"All right," was all she said, but the relief was plastered on her face.  "Can you tell me who he is?"  
  
There was no point in hiding it anyway. She downed another glass of water (which, by the way, tasted disgusting). "Luke." Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth. Jessica kept her eyes on the floor because she could not, for the life of her, look at Trish right now.  
  
She had been keeping him away from her thoughts. (Well, she had been _trying_ to  keep him out of her mind). Had been trying to keep her crap away from him because he had walked through hell and back one too many times for her to keep fucking him up.

And _this_? This changed everything.  
  
"Well, that’s—"  
  
"I know," Jessica cut in before Trish could say something fancy that would be the equivalent of  ' _fucked up_ '.  
  
"I was gonna say ' _not so bad_ '," Trish amended.

 Jessica frowned. Hard. "Well, then you're not in your right state of mind."  
  
"I mean it, Jess. At least it's someone you know. Someone we know is a good person."  
  
And that, Jess thought, was exactly what was so messed up about this whole thing.  
  
Trish walked over to the counter and poured herself some water, her expression softer now. "So, you're really doing this."  
  
That one muscle in Jessica's chest clenched and hammered against her ribs. "I guess."  
  
Trish nodded, touching Jessica's arm lightly and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I hope you know what you're doing—"  
  
Jessica let out a mock, self-deprecating laugh through her nose. "When did I ever?”  
  
"—And I’ll admit I’m a little scared for you. But I’m not gonna let you do this alone."  
  
_Good_ , Jessica thought, because this time she wasn't even considering that. She allowed the corners of her lips to turn upwards in what she hoped at least resembled some sort of smile.  
  
Trish returned the smile, then asked, "So, when are you gonna tell him?"  
  
Jessica opened her mouth but no sound came out. Ah, yeah. She still had to do _that_.  
  
Her opinion on being pregnant so far? Fucking exhausting.  
  
  
                                                      

* * *

  
  
According to the clock on her phone, it was half past ten in the evening when she pushed open the door of Luke's building and slipped inside, carrying an extra weight of fear and guilt on her shoulders, which was slowing her down.  
  
It took her about five minutes to get to Luke's floor, and an extra fifteen seconds to catch her breath before she knocked on the door—twice, softer than usual. She leaned against the wall across from the door and waited, eyes staring up at the ceiling. It was a very clean ceiling, Jess observed. The ceilings in her building had spots of mold in the corners and around the lamps and especially behind the too-old-and-dented pipes. It gave off a feeling of decay. Like the place was barely holding up. She thought it kind of made sense that her place was ruined and Luke's was nearly impeccable. A good metaphor or whatever, if she cared about these things.

Instinctively, almost as a reflex, her eyes darted down to his face as soon as he opened the door.  
  
"Hey," he said, the ghost of a smile in his gentle eyes.  
  
Something bit her in the gut with teeth so sharp she might have yelled out a groan if she could find her voice. "Hi," was what she answered instead.  
  
She hadn’t called to let him know she was coming. She hadn’t texted him (she hardly ever did, even when he texted her first). She just appeared at his door with avoidance in her gaze and words trapped under her tongue that would turn his world upside down.

He stepped aside so she could come in, but Jessica just shook her head, staring him in the eye for the first time that night. Something struck across his face and Jessica balled her hands into fists because— _fuck_. They had been here before.

How many more shit was he supposed to take from her? It was never-ending.  
  
"We... need to talk."  
  
He watched her for a moment. "We can talk inside," he suggested, and the first thing in her mind was _fuck no_.  
  
She couldn't _do_ that. This place was the closest thing Luke had to a home. She couldn’t sit on the couch where they had had sex several times before, or on the bed where she had spent several nights wrapped up in his warmth, and tell him she was pregnant with his kid. It would draw a very thick line of intimacy, and she couldn’t handle that right now.  
  
They were not that kind of couple or that kind of people. Jessica wasn't sure they could ever be.  
  
She shook her head again, her throat closing up. "We should go for a walk."

Jess told herself not to be affected by the look of utter concern on his face, and instead focused on acting as if the mere idea of screwing this up (again) wasn’t the scariest thought in her head right now.  
  
He pondered for one second or two, then nodded. "I’ll grab my jacket."  
  
Jessica closed her eyes when he turned his back to her and breathed deeply a couple times.  
  
She walked a few steps ahead of him as he followed her down the streets, until they were out of Harlem, closer to... nowhere specific. They weren’t getting anywhere, but at least she could run if things got too rough.  
  
"So what is it that we need to talk about?" Luke asked, and thank God he was speaking to her.  
  
He always gave her too much space, and the problem was that she was really good at running away.  
  
She stopped, heard him stop too, still keeping a safe distance between them. Then counted up to ten.  
  
"I'm pregnant," she said all at once, because she wasn’t good at this shit, and there was no way to sugar coat it.  
  
There was no noise behind her. She did not turn around. She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets and continued, "It’s yours. You're the only person I’ve been with... in a while—" (for the past two years, actually) "—so I know. And I don't... expect anything... from you. I just—just wanted to let you know."

She felt rather than heard Luke approaching her, so she turned around to look at him because she owed him that much.  
  
His face was more tender than she had anticipated. It made her stomach churn. His calmness made her nervous.  
  
"Christmas," was what he said next.  
  
"What?" Jessica asked because, honestly, she was nearly dissociating.  
  
"The last time we did... whatever we were doing."  
  
Jessica's insides were cold. "Sex is the word you're looking for."

He raised his eyebrows at her because—yeah, it had never been that simple.  
  
He let that one pass. His hands were on her arms a second later, his gaze on her face. While she stood on trembling legs, Luke stood still and poised. Steadiness, Jessica thought. He was her fixed spot.  
  
"So, you're pregnant," he said, a hint of a smile on his lips.  
  
And, goddamn it, she didn't _deserve_ him.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"And that's on me." That was teasing, and she knew it. She knew _him_. Intimately. No matter how much she liked to pretend she didn't.  
  
"I guess we can say that." She played along. This whole thing had turned out to be easier than she had expected, and she didn’t want to jinx it.  
  
There was only so much shit she could handle in one day.  
  
His eyebrows knitted together. Then his expression became more serious, but not sharp, just concerned. "You want to have it?"  
  
It dawned on her that she had never, not for a single second, considered not having it. Because that ball of cells was half hers and half Luke's, and she had never done anything good for anyone, but she wanted to do something good for this kid.  
  
She wanted to make it right for once. For a change. She wanted new. She wanted normal.  
  
Or whatever she could get out of normalcy.  
  
"I do," she said, voice thick.  
  
He nodded at her, expression softening again. He looked almost relieved. "Then I’m with you."  
  
Jess swallowed around the lump in her throat that should not be there, shaking her head in astonishment. "It's okay if you want to, you know, freak out a little."  
  
Luke actually laughed and Jessica was... dumbfounded. "I don't do that, Jones."  
  
She shrugged, as if her nerves weren't trembling. "I’m just saying, it wouldn't be completely incomprehensible."  
  
Luke looked into her eyes for a solid minute before replying, "The way I see it, some things are just meant to happen a certain way."  
  
Something snapped in her chest at his words, and suddenly, she found herself breathing easier.  
  
  
                                                  

* * *

 

 

Here’s a list of things that Jess didn't hate about being pregnant:  

  * People would bring her food whenever she mentioned she wanted to eat something.
  * She could spend the entire day in bed and nobody would call her lazy since, according to Trish, it was normal to feel sleepy and tired in the first trimester.
  * Hogarth would lower her voice whenever Jessica raised hers because ‘ _stress is not good for the fetus_ ’. (She’d actually snorted the first time she heard that because she lived in a constant state of stress and the kid was probably getting used to it.)
  * People would give up their seats for her on the subway.
  * That was it.



She hadn’t bothered to make a list of things she didn't like. Right now, though, the offensive situation was a bowl of salad that sat before her, which Trish insisted she have for dinner.  
  
"That’s.... torture," she said, poking at the green leaves of... whatever that was with her fork. "I’m pregnant; I’m already being punished."  
  
Trish sent her an exasperated look, eyebrows raised high on her forehead. "You can't live off peanut butter sandwiches, Jess. The baby needs nutrients."  
  
"I'm giving it to It," she argued, grimacing at her food.  
  
"The prenatal vitamins are a complement."  
  
Jessica stopped fighting with the food to stare up at her friend, brow furrowed. "Don't tell me you're reading one of those stupid pregnancy books that makes everything sound like a disease."  
  
Trish opened her mouth, closed it again. Sighed. "Those can be useful."  
  
"Yeah, if you want to live in fear that you or the kid might die."  
  
Trish lifted one shoulder and let it drop again. "It only happens in 1 out of 160 pregnancies."  
  
"Thanks for giving me information I didn't ask for," Jessica replied. She really did _not_ need more stuff to worry about.  
  
There was a self-satisfied smirk on Trish’s lips and it annoyed Jessica because it kind of made her want to smile, too. (She didn’t.)

She was debating whether she could get away with not eating that thing (maybe she could throw it into the trash bin when Trish wasn’t looking), when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

Jess could feel Trish’s eyes on her—heavy, speculating—as she asked, “Is it Luke?”

His name caused a prickling sensation under Jessica’s skin. “Hogarth,” she said emphatically. “Letting me know she notified Payroll.”

“Since when does she tell you these things via text?”

“Ever since she figured out it was the only way to avoid my answers.”

“Uh, do you reply to Luke when he texts you?”

Jess breathed so deeply she was afraid she might suck all the air out of the room. “Don’t, okay?” she warned her.

Trish folded a piece of chicken into her mouth and smiled mischievously at her.  "I didn't say anything."

Jessica swallowed her salad (it didn't taste that bad) and went to grab some iced tea. That was one of the few things that didn't make her sick to her stomach. "Your eyebrows did."

"I’m just thinking how long you're gonna keep this up."

Jessica waggled her eyebrows, taking a large gulp of her drink. The ice burned her throat almost as much as alcohol used to. "I was thinking the same thing about this diet crap."

Trish sighed. “Just making sure you’re not avoiding him because you don’t know how to approach the situation.”

Jess clenched her jaw, eyes dropping to her plate. She tried to imagine a world where Trish wouldn’t be able to hit the core of the matter after looking at her for 0.2 seconds. She had heard about the existence of multiverses. Maybe that Doctor Strange guy could help her find one.

Still, she argued just for the sake of it. “I’m not.”

Trish nodded once, a knowing look in her eyes. “Good, because you shouldn’t. And if you _were_ , it wouldn’t be fair to him.”

Christ. This conversation was going to give her an indigestion. “Look, we talk, okay? So quit worrying.”

Trish looked mildly amused this time, but, thankfully, the front door opened before she could say anything else. Three seconds later Malcolm entered the kitchen with a loaf of bread in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other.

"Seriously, have both of you robbed a convenience store?" Jessica taunted, leaning back in her chair.

"It's spinach soup. My grandma used to say it was good for pregnant women."

 Jess was sure both of them could see the horror on her face.

Trish just laughed. Jess sunk lower in her seat and suffered.

This kid owed her a big one.

  
  
                                                      

* * *

  
  
  
The last time she had been to Luke's bar she had got pregnant, and although her genetics was kind of messed up, she doubted she could get knocked up again for at least the next seven months or so. Reason why she didn’t hesitate before pushing the door open, locking the cool March air out behind her.  
  
One of the many things she liked about Luke's bar was that it was always the same. Immutable. Brown stools and black counter and wood floor and the smell of booze. And Luke, behind the counter, smiling at customers, looking at her. It was a constant. A place to go back to that was comforting and familiar, yet far from private.  
  
Lately, when her PTSD symptoms began to surface again, knocking the air out of her lungs and stealing her thoughts from her, she caught herself reciting the name of the street where the bar was located, and the ones next to it. There was no past in this place. Only the present.  
  
And maybe a future.  
  
Shit, no. She was not going to think about Luke that way.  
  
Roy emerged from the back of the bar and immediately spotted her by the counter, sticking out like a sore thumb. He glanced at her face—probably tired, probably shitty—, then down at the general area of her stomach, then back up at her face again.  
  
She blinked. "Is Luke here?"  
  
"He's in the back," he told her, voice light. "I’ll tell him you’re here." He stopped, looked back at her, then added: "Seems like I wasn't so wrong that time." Before Jessica could make any snarky comment on that, he disappeared into the bar, his throaty laughter trailing behind him.

 _Fucking figure.  
_  
"Are you lost?" Luke asked, because he hadn't seen her for a couple weeks. Hard work and shit. He texted her every night to know how she was doing, though.  
  
Jessica hadn’t given much thought to the matter.  
  
"Was in the neighborhood, thought I should stop by," she said, her eyelids suddenly too heavy.  
  
"What were you doing around here?"  
  
"Finishing a case."

 "Any luck?”  
  
Jess shrugged. "Nothing speaks proof like pictures."  
  
"Good for you," he said, a smile in his words. "I’m almost closing up."  
  
That was a silent question. She decided to give a vocal answer. "I’ll wait."  
  
She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes for just one second or two, she was sure, but somehow, when she opened them again, it was because Luke was poking her arm.  
  
Her vision was blurred. She blinked a few times to regain some focus.  
  
"Long night?" Luke asked.  
  
"Long week, " she replied, brushing hair out of her eyes. "Spent the last three nights chasing this dude, collecting evidence."  
  
"You haven’t slept in three days?"  
  
Jess shrugged. "I passed out last night, actually." At his frown, she amended, "Figuratively speaking."  
  
"Get up. Let me take you home."  
  
She was too tired to argue or pull away when Luke threw his jacket around her shoulders and kept his hand there to steady her. When it occurred to her that the gesture made her feel safe, she blamed the lack of sleep and tiredness.  
  
It wasn’t before they stopped at the entrance of his building that Jessica realized where they were going.  
  
"That’s not my apartment."  
  
"Still got those observation skills, huh?" Luke teased.  
  
"Why did you bring me here?"  
  
"Really thought I was gonna drive you home when you can barely stand up?"  
  
Instinctively, she replied, "I’ve had worse nights."  
  
Something darkened in his eyes for a brief moment, then he pushed the door open and helped her inside. Actually _helped_ her and—goddammit she couldn’t recall the last time she had felt this much tired.  
  
The yellow lights of his apartment were warm around them when Luke flicked them on. It was the first time she was setting foot here since _That Night_ and, now that she thought about it, there were three members of the same family in this room right now.  
  
_Jesus_. She clearly needed to get some sleep. That thought? Was an awful delusion.  
  
Luke disappeared into his room and came back holding a yellow silk T-shirt, which he offered her, saying: "It’s more comfortable than a leather jacket."  
  
Jess shrugged, too exhausted to even argue, and took the shirt from his hand, heading to his bathroom to get changed. She should probably take a shower first, but she was seriously afraid that she might actually faint if she tried. Jess just shook off her jeans and jacket and slipped his shirt on over her own tank top. Then she peed, and stood by the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror—and yep; _definitely_ tired and shitty.  
  
Although she knew she was not going to find a picture of Reva behind a Tylenol bottle, Jess still waited for her face to stare back at her with eyes full of light; could still feel the bile rising in her throat whenever she opened the medicine cabinet to get her toothbrush. And, occasionally, she could still feel hot tears stinging her eyes behind eyelids that were closed too tight.  
  
Tonight, she brushed her teeth too hard and spit into the sink before any of that could happen.  
  
When she walked out, Luke was waiting at the kitchen doorway. "Wanna eat something?"  
  
Jessica _was_ hungry. However. "Sleep first."  
  
Luke nodded. "You take the bed, I’ll stay on the couch."  
  
Because, predictably, sharing the bed when you’re more than fuck buddies and less than lovers and there’s an actual human being growing inside one of you, was the least recommended thing to do. No matter how many times you've fucked each other in that very bed. And if Jessica could rationalize that, then of course Luke had thought the same.  
  
Which was why she answered, "It’s fine, I’m used to sleeping in odd places."  
  
Luke didn’t expect an explanation, he just arched his eyebrows and stressed, "You can have the bed, Jess. Get some proper sleep. See you in the morning."  
  
Well, that put an end to the discussion, apparently. "Okay," was what she said before entering his room.  
  
His sheets were softer than hers and smelled clean. It made the plain hollow in the central cavity of her chest ache with relief, because nobody had been sleeping in this bed except Luke. And herself. A selfish smile crept over her lips and she pulled the covers up to her neck, lying on her side so she could look at the faint light coming from the TV in the living room.  
  
She would have felt at peace if she believed in such a thing.  
  
(She left the door open. Just because.)  
  
  
                                                      

* * *

 

It was the first time in three or maybe ten years that Jessica had woken up to the smell of waffles and freshly brewed coffee. It was also the first time in... well, as long as she could remember, that she was feeling well rested. Which was why the face staring back at her in the mirror didn’t look as awful as it had the night before.  
  
Trish would call it progress. Jess called it an anomaly.  
  
Her clothes were no longer on the floor where she had left them, but hanging behind the door, right beside Luke’s towel and the jeans he had worn the night before. Jessica stared at their clothes hanging close together and grimaced at it, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach. Morning sickness. Whatever.  
  
Quickly, like it had burned her, she removed his shirt and tossed it onto the toilet lid, immediately putting her own clothes back on. Then she washed her face and headed to the kitchen where Luke and her breakfast waited for her. A shirtless Luke that is. She felt her lips part and suddenly she was kind of hungry for something else.  
  
No big deal. She was used to longing for things she couldn’t have. Like a normal life, and a clear head and shit.  
  
"Morning," she said, because she remembered that’s what people who don’t dislike each other tend to say in the mornings.  
  
A smile tugged at one corner of Luke’s lips. "It’s two in the afternoon."  
  
Jess' brow creased. "I slept for twelve hours?" Which, _what the hell_.  
  
Luke’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Average hour of sleep is eight."  
  
"I wouldn’t know." She shrugged.  
  
"Breakfast?" Luke asked next. Jessica promptly sat down in one of the (stable, not wobbling) chairs and served herself some waffles and— _shit_. She couldn’t drink coffee or else the kid would be born with eight legs. Or laser eyes. That sucked.  
  
"There’s tea in the teapot," Luke commented, probably noticing her hesitation.  
  
Jessica reached for the white teapot, sniffing its contents. Peppermint tea. "You drink this crap?"  
  
Luke shook his head. "I figured I should keep some around."  
  
Huh. Jessica stuffed a large piece of waffles into her mouth to help her swallow down her goddamn heart.  
  
"You gotta start getting some quality sleep," Luke said, tone casual.  
  
Jessica took a large gulp of her tea. It was better than the hot, sugary water she made for herself. "Yeah, my brain shutting off last night was clear evidence of that."  
  
"And we don’t want that to happen again."    
  
She bit her tongue at that. Like, literally. And _hard_. She could taste blood and all that.

Luke amended, "Don’t wanna have to carry you in next time."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
She stuffed another piece of waffles into her mouth. She hated the taste of blood.  
  
(There wouldn’t _be_ a next time)  
  
  
                                                 

* * *

  
  
There was a next time.  
  
And another one.  
  
And another.  
  
And another.  
  
( _Fuck_ ).  
  
  
                                                       

* * *

  
  
  
  
It didn't _hit_ hit her until a couple of weeks later. Probably because the amount of time she was dedicating to thinking about her current situation was nonexistent, or maybe because it took her longer than it did other people to learn from her mistakes. (She was an asshole, yada yada. What's new.)  
  
But when it hit, it was in the most random moment, which, honestly, shouldn't have surprised her, but still kind of did.  
  
That’s the thing about pain; it's fucking unpredictable.  
  
"What is it again?" Jessica asked from the chair where she was seated, half a bagel between her teeth.  
  
Luke looked over his shoulder. "Food," he replied, and Jessica looked up from her phone to scowl at him. And there it was; that goddamn smirk she'd known would be there. "It’s pasta salad."  
  
They were _really_ invested in making her eat salad, weren’t they?

She chewed the bagel and swallowed it, scrolling through the Wikipedia page on her phone. "How'd you learn to cook, anyway?"  
  
It was casual conversation. Light atmosphere. It was supposed to be harmless. But it was her, after all, so obviously she'd say the wrong shit and screw everything up. That's just how things were.  
  
So she observed as Luke's back muscles tensed up under his red shirt, and how his breath caught for just one second before he replied, "Reva and I used to do it together."  
  
Jessica's thumb froze over the screen of her phone, her stomach jolting up to her throat. She had never been the dramatic type, but if the floor decided to open up right under her feet and swallow her up entirely, she wouldn't be too opposed to it.  
  
Luke was stronger, so he continued, "Pop used to say a good man has to know how to take care of himself."  
  
Jessica was still stuck on " _used to do things_ ", because there was probably a lot of shit that Luke used to do, and things he wanted to accomplish, and now none of that could be such a solid plan anymore, all because Jess was unable to step back, let things go, and stop being a piece of shit. And now he'd forever be tied to her and her mess and so would the kid... And she just—she couldn’t breathe.  
  
_Goddamn it_.  _Fuck._  
  
The world around her slowed down, but she could feel the blood thumping through her body, her brain knocking against her skull in a way that made her head spin. Her cold, shaky hands took the bagel from between her teeth and threw them onto the plate hard enough to break the thing in half. Her stomach was tying itself into knots, her vision becoming blurred. She balled her hands into fists and focused hard on not vomiting.

 _In and out, Jones. In and out._  
  
"Hey, what's wrong?" Luke’s voice asked, but she couldn't look at him. Instead, she stared at the window behind his head and counted the three pigeons sitting on the roof of the building opposite Luke's.  
  
"I just... I feel like I keep dumping my crap on you."

"Jessica—”  
  
"I just keep dragging you into this giant pile of oozing shit. And you shouldn't have to put up with it.”  
  
Luke shook his head, stepping closer to her, but she didn't want his kindness. She didn't want to _be_ here, didn't want to—  
  
"That's not what happened, and you know it." Luke recited each word calmly, his hands finding her shoulders.  
  
Jessica shook her head indignantly. "It doesn't change the things I did." _The things he made me do. The things I keep doing._  
  
Luke's expression became too serious, a look she hadn't seen on his face in years. Almost pained, almost hurt. "You didn't have a choice."  
  
Jessica dared to meet his eyes at his words. They were still soft despite the fact that somewhere under his flesh he still carried scars that she had inflicted on him. "You and I both know that's not true."  
  
She could have chosen him when they had sex for the first time. She could have chosen him when he came back to apologize for things he hadn't done. She could have chosen him that night, with the gun to his throat. She could have chosen him many times. Instead, she had relied too much on the hope that he wouldn't break, forgetting that she had yet to find something that wouldn't break under her touch.  
  
_(_ — _I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.)_  
  
"You did what you had to do," he insisted, hands caressing her shoulders. "And I ain't mad at you. For any of that."  
  
And there it was again, that everlasting kindness. And here she was, feeding on it like a fucking succubus.  
  
"You should be." Her voice was charged with emotion, which was very unlikely of her, but _God fucking damn it._  
  
"I spent a really long time being mad at you,” he nodded slightly, and somehow his words made her feel a little better. “And maybe I should still be. But I ain't, not anymore."

Jess stared blankly at him for a solid minute. She had just had a panic attack and he was still breathing easy, touching gently. She would never stop thinking that she didn't deserve him. Never stop wondering why he still wanted her.  
  
She leaned into his touch, let his steadiness support her. "What are you, then?"  
  
He smiled. "A father."  
  
Jessica felt her lungs opening up, a smile softening the sharp line of her lips. "Technically, not yet."  
  
"Guess I am," he said, then pressed his lips to her temple. Jessica reminded herself not to pull away.  
  
She narrowed her eyes. "You didn't even _want_ any of this."

"You can't know that," he assured her.

"Yeah, I do."  
  
"So it wasn't planned. But, hey, I’m not the one complaining."  
  
There were words pressed against the back of her teeth that tasted almost like an apology. But she had stopped saying those words to him after she realized they carried more pain than relief. She had no idea why his compass kept pointing to her, but she was too selfish to give up her true north.  
  
Maybe she had shattered their chances. But maybe, they had the tools to create something even better.  
  
                                                     

* * *

 

  
  
Predictably, Trish was far more excited about the first ultrasound thing than Jessica was. She found it pleasantly surprising that Trish hadn’t invited Malcolm to come along. Which, thank you Trish for having some sense and realizing Jessica didn't need an audience.  
  
"What do you think it's gonna be like?" Trish asked excitedly from where she stood by the closed door.  
  
Jessica shrugged, scanning the room through squinted eyes. "I don't know. Grey, incomprehensible forms, very noisy. What did those books tell you?"  
  
She could perfectly _feel_ Trish's scowl. "That some women cry when they hear their babies for the first time."  
  
Jess snorted. "Hope you're not here for that."  
  
Trish pressed her lips together really tightly to repress a smile. It made her blue eyes shine brighter.  Luke laughed breathily from his seat beside the bed, one of his hands massaging her shoulder comfortingly.  
  
Trish pressed further. "So, you're not nervous?"  
  
"No."

 She was. She was _terrified_. Life had never been kind to her, and everything about this was a shot in the dark. And she knew, because Trish wouldn't shut up about it, how fast the kid's heartbeat was supposed to be, and how big the little bean was expected to be, and if it was smaller, then there would be something wrong. Not to mention the fact that they had no idea what her mutant uterus, which probably carried a mutant fetus, looked like from the inside and—  
  
"Hey, don't overthink it. Everything's gonna be okay," Luke said softly in her ear as the doctor spread the cool goo across her stomach with the wand.  
  
Well, Luke better be right, Jessica thought. And if everything _was_ fine, she would shove a picture of her fertilized egg into an envelope and anonymously send it to Danny Rand with a note saying _"Fuck you"_ , because, seriously, it was his tiny team up that had led to her and Luke meeting again, which had led to _this_. So _fuck him_.  
  
Her train of thought was interrupted by a series of loud, steady noises, like drums underwater, and Jessica found herself staring at the computer screen even though everything looked the same and she couldn't understand shit. But one of those grey shadows was producing all that noise. That noise (that heartbeat) was coming from _inside_ her, and it hit her, for the first time since she had found out she was pregnant, that this was _really_ happening. There was life growing inside her, and _that_ was freaking new for someone who was constantly taking from the universe.  
  
Trish was crying. Like, a torrent-of-tears-rolling-down-her-face crying. It was very open and it was unnerving Jessica because there was this giant ice cube in her throat but she couldn't find it in herself to cry.

At some point, Luke's hand found its way to hers, the tips of his fingers pressing down on her skin, as if he needed to make sure it was real. And it broke her. It broke her that he looked marveled at her, and then at her stomach, and then at the computer screen, and down at her again. She felt overwhelmed like she hadn't felt in months, and for a moment there, she actually felt _okay_.

 Jessica was not a romantic person or whatever, but if Luke kissed her now, she wouldn't have a problem with that.  
  
Instead, he brought a hand up to touch her face and smiled at her, showing off his perfect teeth, and he was just so— _open_. He was open to her, right here and right now. Like an open door, a second (billionth) chance, or something. She felt her own lips stretching into a smile.  
  
When the doctor announced she could put her clothes on again, Jessica noticed Trish was no longer there. Maybe she should worry about what moment shared between her and Luke had made Trish excuse herself from the room, but she didn’t want to worry about anything for at least five minutes.  
  
Luke drove her home, her arms tight around his waist as she sat behind him on the motorcycle. When they arrived at her building, he silently followed her inside, his hand around hers. Once they were safely locked inside her ruined apartment, she considered the idea of not having to let him go.  
  
"It’s getting dark. You should probably eat something," Luke commented casually, removing his jacket and draping it over the back of the chair. “What do you want?” he asked, and she knew he was talking about dinner, but she also knew that meant he was open to staying over, if she wanted. And— _goddamn it_. She wanted that. She wanted him.  
  
She stepped closer to him, his scent filling her nostrils. An " _I miss you_ " bubbled up her throat and pressed itself against her teeth, but she swallowed it—hard—, and instead focused on the feel of Luke's hand on her hips, fingertips pressing down gently, the heel of his palm touching the sides of her stomach.  
  
Then she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, arms curling around his neck. And she decided right there and then that she would stop feeling guilty for loving him.  
  
Later, as he was inside her, moving slower than they normally did, she bit her name into his skin and let him bruise his name into hers. When his eyes peered into hers, she did not look away.  
  
(Here’s an act of heroism for you.)  
  
  
                                                     

* * *

  
  
  
The sunlight coming in through the window was reflecting on the screen of her laptop and making it rather hard for Jessica to read the shit she had to read for this case she was currently working on. While digging up and finding dirt on someone wasn't nearly as entertaining as chasing them around, people usually paid more for these cases, and money was a language Jessica spoke very well.  
  
So what if she had to prove that a lawyer wasn't as trustworthy as people thought? Screw the bastard. She had a kid to raise. (And screw Matt Murdock and his grey morals too. She hated lawyers.)  
  
She reached for her jacket and threw it over the window to block the sunlight, propping her legs up on the desk and placing her laptop over her legs. Sitting like that was getting quite complicated, given that there was a small bump between her and the keyboard now, and sometimes she had to look around it or over it in order to read until the bottom of the page.  
  
She was debating whether she should just go sit on the couch, or place the laptop on the desk again, when she felt something pushing her stomach from the inside.  
  
Uh. That was something new.  
  
Jess stopped reading the article and stared down at the bump, waiting. It moved again, a little harder this time and _yup_ , that was definitely a punch. Or a kick.  
  
Her first thought was, _‘Thank god it didn't break my rib’_ because that had been a very real concern of hers for a while. Her second thought was, _‘Does it mean It doesn't have superhuman strength or just that my uterus is inhumanly resistant?’_ which was something to consider. Then, finally, it occurred to her that she really wanted to tell Luke about it. She wanted to share this moment with him. It was only fair, since they shared the kid and all that.  
  
Instead, she texted Trish a quick _"It moves"_ and went back to business.  
  
Two minutes later, Luke was turning the key in the lock. Talk about good timing.  
  
"I brought food," he announced, and Jess decided that letting him have her extra key, so he could get in even when she was asleep, had sort of been one of her best ideas. "Still working on that case?"  
  
"Hmmm," she hummed in her throat. "Caught the asshole."  
  
"Guilty?" Luke asked from the kitchen as he dumped the food on the table.  
  
"Yep. Of everything he was accused of. Embezzlement, corruption—he basically buys the jury every time. No wonder the criminals get absolved."  
  
"Sweet Christmas."  
  
Jess arched her brows. "And I thought Hogarth was bad."  
  
"Hungry?" he asked when he spotted her at the door. On the table, there was a bowl of salad, Ramen, and black beer (good for breastfeeding, or whatever. At least it was alcohol.)  
  
If she were a believer, she'd say _God bless this man._  
  
"Apparently, It doesn't have super strength, by the way," she said matter-of-factly, grabbing a can of beer and opening it.  
  
Luke stopped. Looked at her, let her works sink in. "Kid moved?"  
  
"Three times in the past fifteen minutes." _Good_. It was supposed to move a lot.  
  
"Is It moving now?" he inquired, eyes bright.  
  
She shook her head. "Don't worry, I'm saying goodbye to my quiet nights."  
  
Luke chuckled. "Have you ever had one of those?"  
  
She pressed her lips together to prevent a smile. "Can't remember."  
  
He approached her, covering her stomach with his hand. The kid moved again, a faint kick against her flesh. Luke lifted an eyebrow, smirking down at her.  
  
"Is that it?"

 She tilted her head to one side, one hand curling into the fabric of his shirt. "Don’t worry about that either, It'll get stronger."  
  
"Just like her mother."  
  
Jessica blinked. Frowned. "‘ _Her_ ’?"  
  
"Just a feeling."  
  
Jess rolled her eyes, pulling him down for a kiss.  
  
Honestly? She could get used to this.  
  
  
                                                 

* * *

 

 

  
The lights in Luke's apartment were on when Jessica arrived at half past midnight. She rummaged through her bag feeling blindly for the keys and cursing under her breath when she didn't find it. For a split second, she wished it were her own damn apartment so she could just break the lock and barge in, but since it wasn’t, she knocked three times and waited.  
  
Luke looked mildly amused when he answered the door. "You have a key."  
  
"Which I left in my apartment," she said, voice a little distant even to herself.  
  
Luke picked up on something. "You okay?" his voice was fond. He stepped aside so she could walk in.  
  
"I'm fine." Jessica kicked off her boots as soon as she entered his living room. On a second thought, she pushed them with her socked feet to one corner of the room, between the couch and the wall.  
  
"You're not," Luke retorted. He was not pushing; he never pushed her, never insisted on anything, never expected anything from her other than honesty. Which she thought was fair, all things considered. He worried, though. Far more quietly than she did, but he worried.  
  
(— _I protect myself and what is mine_ —)  
  
Jessica swallowed heavily, meeting his eyes.

"Do you ever regret taking a case?"  
  
"Sometimes. Why?"  
  
She sat on the couch, grimacing a little as a sharp pain shot up her spine, as if a billion knives were stabbing her right in the bones. _Goddamn it_. She was too tired for this shit.  
  
"Had to support myself sixteen feet off the ground, pressed between two buildings, to take some pictures of a random bastard." Not recommended if you're carrying an extra weight in your middle.  
  
"Is that all?" Luke deadpanned.  
  
"Then I found out that the girl’s father was not only cheating on his clueless wife but also killing people for drugs.” A pause. “And I may or may not have broken my spine."  
  
Concern hardened Luke’s features. He pressed his lips tightly together, his eyes dropping to her stomach. “The cops need to know about it.”

“I already informed Knight.”

 _Shit._ The kid was moving nonstop and her liver was suffering.

Luke nodded, plopping down beside her on the couch, and purposefully keeping his knees parted. Jessica only pondered for about two seconds before positioning herself between his legs. "Why were you sixteen feet off the ground?"  
  
"Hard not to be noticed when you're almost six months along," she pointed out, leaning into his touch as he began to rub her back, adding just enough pressure to relax her angry muscles.  
  
"All right," he responded, a tinge of worry in his voice. "You should stick to the cases Hogarth hands you for a while."

 _Stop risking your ass at least until the kid’s born_ , was what he didn’t say, but Jessica could hear it anyway.  
  
She snorted. "I’d rather lose a tooth than work for her any more than strictly necessary."  
  
"She pays well," Luke reminded her, which _was_ a good argument.  
  
However. "She feeds off people's misery and she wants my flesh."  
  
"Because nearly breaking your spine is much better?"  
  
Jessica rolled her eyes, looking at him over her shoulder. "If I had a penny for every time I had this kind of conversation, I would have enough money to buy Hogarth’s company."  
  
"That says a lot about your way to do business."

She didn't bother to reply. Instead, she pressed herself against him and sunk her nails into his skin. It still amazed her that Luke didn't even flinch. He was an exception to the rules. Maybe that was why he stayed. Maybe that was why she let him.

"Feels good?" His voice was too close to her ear, sending shivers down her injured spine.  
  
"Hmmm," she hummed in her throat.  
  
"You walked all the way here?" His thumb was on her lower back now, and it was tearing her apart. In a good way.  
  
"Nope. Took a cab."  
  
It was silent for a moment during which she pondered if it would further hurt her spine if she just turned around and fucked Luke on the couch. Probably. Maybe. She was willing to take the risk.  
  
But he stopped her by saying, "I was thinking, we should probably decide where we're gonna keep the kid’s stuff when she’s born.”  
  
Her insides turned to ice (which came in handy because she couldn't feel a fucking thing anymore). "What?" was her immediate reaction.  
  
He went on, "We spend as much time here as we do at your place, but the kid’s gonna have needs. Like a crib, a room, and a place to live ."  
  
Jessica was beginning to suspect that Luke, Trish, and Malcolm had been spending a lot of time together. Probably working on a book called ‘ _Ways To Not So Subtly Call Jessica Out On Her Shit_ ’. There was enough material for a trilogy, she was sure.  
  
"Uh," left her lips in the form of an answer.  
  
"You haven’t thought about it, have you?"  
  
Here was volume two.

"I've been known for not doing that a lot."  
  
Luke laughed. "I’m not asking you to make a decision right now."  
  
"I know." He would never. In fact, if they were in this mess right now, it was because he had let _her_ dictate their relationship since basically the very beginning. A huge mistake, if you asked her. Her moral compass had been broken for years.  
  
"We have time. Just think about it."  
  
She _would_. For now, she let him rub her back, and then let him be inside her (three times, because she had reached that point where she was kind of constantly horny). And, later, when he curled an arm around her, his thumb drawing patterns into her skin, she tried not to think of a future where they wouldn’t have to leave the next morning.

  
  
                                                   

* * *

  
  
  
As it turned out, she was in fact having a girl.  
  
Luke sustained a smirk for about three days straight. Whatever. So what if she wasn't good at this " _mother intuition_ " thing. She wasn't good at a lot of things. It was not a surprise.  
  
"We should call It Luka," Jessica joked during breakfast one morning. She’d never admit it, but she was growing far too fond of the self-satisfied look on Luke's face.  
  
He took a sip of his coffee (with cream, excessively sugary, and that was a travesty, because sweet coffee was disgusting and he was doing that _wrong_ ) and shrugged one shoulder. "It doesn't sound so bad."  
  
For Jess' horror, the joke stuck.  
  
  
                                                    

* * *

  
  
"Go to Harlem?" was what left Trish's mouth, and although the words themselves didn’t catch her off guard, the tone in which they were delivered definitely did.  
  
She didn't sound surprised in the slightest. Actually, it pretty much seemed like she had been waiting for the news. Why, Jess had no idea.  
  
Jessica shrugged briskly, using the cheap disposable chopsticks to poke at her chicken. "I keep breaking my front window," she said in lieu of an answer.  
  
"And occasionally the walls," Malcolm's voice chimed in from her office, and Jessica sucked her teeth.

She was _very_ aware that her place was a mess. Lately, even her water heater had been acting up. And _that_ was precisely why Luke's apartment seemed like a much better option for a child. She was going to keep the office, though.  
  
"Thanks. I don't remember asking," she complained. "What the hell are you _doing_ here, Malcolm?"  
  
"I work here." And that was... not a fucking answer.  
  
"Okay, so you're moving into Luke's apartment. When?" Trish inquired, clearly far more interested in the matter than she should be.  
  
"That's not… It's not like we’re nesting,” Jessica stated.  
  
Trish lifted her eyebrows in that way that made Jessica question her whole world view every damn time. "From where I'm standing—"  
  
Jess made a face. "I guess it's been stipulated that you have a very specific point of view. There’s a whole talk show that focuses on it."  
  
"It’s called logic," she taunted. Jess was fairly certain she could hear Malcolm laughing in the kitchen.  
  
"Huh. I wouldn't know."  
  
"So, _when_?" And fuck Trish and her inability to let things _go_.  
  
"I don't know. Before the kid's born, for sure." Which reminded her; "It'll probably need some sort of nursery."  
  
Trish jumped to her feet, a broad smile on her face. "I’ve got it handled."  
  
Oh, no. "Trish—"  
  
"Don't, okay? It's my gift for little Luka." She actually winked at Jessica and it was both really annoying and very endearing.

She was happy that the kid was going to have someone like Trish and Malcolm in Its life. To teach It kindness, to teach It how to touch things without breaking them. She was glad It would have a family that It belonged to. That was all Jess could offer this kid.  
  
  
                                                      

* * *

 

  
  
There was a certain thrill that came from wrapping her legs around Luke's head and not having to worry about her strength. Even more so when she felt the wooden headboard begin to crack under her grasp, but Luke's movements remained steady. Sometimes, when it was dark outside and it was just the two of them in a warm bed, she’d look at him and think back to that one time she had managed to break something unbreakable, and she would remind herself not to worry about cracks in his skin, open wounds, or broken bones, because Luke was tougher than whatever tried to hurt him.

Those were, if anything, perks of being with someone nearly indestructible.

And, last but not least, the sex was great.  
  
Reason why they had done that twice already and she was very much on the verge of her third orgasm.  
  
Luke's lips were on hers as soon as she came apart, trembling underneath him. He kissed her slowly, gently, with more affection than she thought she deserved, but she had taught herself to accept it. Had grown used to wanting more of it. More of _him_. Had repeated to herself that it was okay to feel content in his arms until it had started to sound somewhat like true. Even if it wasn't; she was good at lying.  
  
Jess made herself comfortable beside him with her head on his chest, her bump pressed into his side, his arm around her. She closed her eyes for a moment to listen to the rain outside. It was a good night.  
  
"I was thinking," Luke started, voice soft in the silence of his room. "Are we ever gonna name this kid?"  
  
Jessica was sleepy, the result of a long day of work, plus mind blowing sex with her... well, Luke. She pressed her lips to his chest, right over his heart, and sighed. "What for? That's the cliché thing, naming the kid."  
  
Luke laughed low in his throat, his thumb drawing circles on her shoulder. "We gotta call her something."  
  
"Hmm. You give them a name, you get attached," she murmured into his skin. Luke smelled so nice. Always. It was not cologne or soap or whatever. It was his very own scent, and Jess thought that part of it was sewed into herself. His fingerprints were all over her body, and nobody could take that away from her.

“We let someone else name the kid, then.” There was fondness in his eyes; Jess could sense it.

“The hell we will," she said, grimacing against his chest. "Under Trish's influence we could end up with a kid named Princess Bubblegum, or Khaleesi, or some shit."  
  
Jessica felt her skin tingle at the sound of his laugh, his breath brushing her forehead. "Still stuck on the Jewel thing?"  
  
Jessica frowned. "Hard to forget."  
  
She pushed herself off the bed to go brush her teeth and pee.  
  
Sometimes, Jessica forgot how undeniably _close_ to each other they had got over the past years. Forgot the nights she had curled up beside him and wondered if there would ever be a day when saying goodbye wouldn't completely eviscerate her. All the nights they had spent awake, mapping out each other's body, fucking until their muscles ached, pretending they could have it all.

But then he’d tease her about something, or mention some random fact of her life, and the memories would strike her like thunder, forcing her to remember the way he had looked at her (surprised, yet content, that she was opening up to him). Remember the feeling in her stomach whenever she discovered something new about him. Remember all the times she had sworn to herself she'd try to love him the same way he loved her, because he deserved that much.  
  
She was still trying. But now they were no longer running out of time.  
  
She came back to bed where he was waiting for her, a smile spreading across his lips at the sight of her in his silk yellow shirt—but honestly, it was one of the very few things that was comfortable enough for her to sleep in. The kid was beginning to take up too much space.  
  
"What do you think of the name Danielle?" he asked, as Jess nestled her head into his shoulder.  
  
She craned her head back so she could look at his face. "It's okay, I guess," she answered cautiously. "Why this name specifically?"  
  
Luke shrugged slightly underneath her. "Pop liked the name. Said he would name his kid Dani in case he ever had a daughter. And I think I've grown to like it too."  
  
Ah, good. Pop. She could deal with memories of dead loved ones and family members. Dead spouses was another grittier, darker story she'd rather not touch.  
  
She nodded, resting her head on his chest again. "Better than Princess Bubblegum."  
  
He replied by kissing the top of her head.  
  
  
                                                   

* * *

  
  
  
There were a few things Jessica hated more than other things. Shopping for clothes was very high on that list. As a matter of fact, she had been borrowing Luke’s shirts more and more so that she wouldn't have to buy pregnancy clothes because A) They had probably been made by blind people (suck it, Murdock); and B) No, thank you.  
  
However, the kid in question needed clothes that couldn’t exactly be borrowed from anyone she knew. Mostly because she didn't _know_ many people, which thank god—the ones she _did_ know were more than she could have hoped for.  
  
"Is it wrong that I'm hoping my water breaks right now so that I can get the hell out of here?" Jessica groaned, slurping her mango milkshake (no, she did not like mango, and no, it did not taste good, but she had had a craving or whatever, so she was drinking it anyway), as she stared at the pregnant women around her from behind her sunglasses.

Trish took a sip of her fancy iced coffee (by the way, that was _not_ how coffee was supposed to be consumed) and sent her a reprimanding look. "You're only seven months along, we've got a few more weeks."

"Great. Thanks," Jess replied, just for the sake of it.  
  
Trish went on. "Plus, this is the best place I could find."  
  
Jessica checked the price tag. Well, at least Trish was being reasonable this time. "I can hear the judgment in your voice." Because Trish had wanted to drag her to a nicer place, with clothes nobody but Trish could afford, and no kid needed that. They needed diapers and food.  
  
"I'm just saying my niece deserves the best stuff." Her voice was light, but the words hit Jess so hard she almost dropped the damn mango milkshake.  
  
She stopped on her tracks. Blinked. "Don't say that."  
  
"Say what?" Trish asked, partially distracted by a pair of baby pants.  
  
"You know what." She couldn't keep the fear away from her voice.  
  
"Niece?" Jessica squinted at her really hard before she remembered she still had her sunglasses on and Trish couldn't see shit. "Well, I'm sort of her aunt, aren't I?"  
  
"Yeah but... saying that... makes me think of the other… _stuff_."  
  
Trish's brow furrowed. "You mean you becoming a mother in about two months?"  
  
"Jesus." She turned her back to Trish. Her fingers were cold as she looked for clothes that didn’t look like _My Little Pony_ had taken a shit on it. She was kind of afraid that if she touched one of those monstrosities, it might start singing a catchy and irritating song back at her. Whoever made these baby clothes clearly needed to quit their job.  
  
"You're feeling anxious, aren't you?" Trish asked from behind her.  
  
"As opposed to?"  
  
"Well, you don't have to."  
  
"Yeah, well, you're not the one who's gonna push a whole human being out of a small hole in your body and then be responsible for it for, like, _years_." A woman who was standing near them sent a look their way. Trish waved politely. Jess frowned again and went back to what she was doing.

"I know it's scary, but you're not alone, and you know it. Luke is a great man and he's gonna be there for you. And I’m right here."  
  
And _that_ was why Jess had not panicked yet. Trish and Luke would be great. It was Jess herself that didn't quite fit in the equation. Someone who was used to breaking was not meant to build. But she was willing to try. She had screwed up many things in her life, but she would not screw up being a mother.  
  
"Hey, Jess," Trish said, touching her arm reassuringly. There was something in her eyes that Jess couldn’t decipher, and it was making her uneasy. "You're gonna be a great mother."

Jess said nothing. Just focused on her breathing so it wouldn't grow ragged. Trish continued:

"You _will_. You look after the people you care about, and you love this child. And you're doing great, and I'm proud of you."  
  
Jessica didn’t smile because she couldn't find the right emotion for that. But she stored Trish’s words in a tiny corner of her brain that was somewhat still unscathed, just in case she ever needed to hear them again.  
  
She also saved a " _Thank you for everything_ " for later. But she knew Trish could hear it anyway.  
  
  
                                                   

* * *

 

It was twenty to midnight when she heard the front door open and close, announcing Luke’s arrival. Jessica reached for her bag of chips (there were crumbs on the bed, and she should probably do something about it), and shifted a little to make herself more comfortable.  
  
When Luke entered his room, he was wearing nothing but his black jeans, and she found it quite irritating that they had been sharing the bed and this apartment for quite some time and he _still_ had no clue of his effect on her.  
  
Actually, yes he did. Of course he did. Had known since day one. No wonder she had ended up pregnant.

"Thought you were asleep," he said to her, searching his drawer for a clean shirt.  
  
"I was before I woke up," she replied, chewing.  
  
The kid had been moving more than ever lately. Right now, it was kicking her spleen into her liver and punching her bladder. And the little shit _had_ got stronger. Which good, but also _ugh_. She was kind of ready to be unpregnant.  
  
And, for the record, this kid was going to be an only child.  
  
"Did you know that kids can choke on their own vomit if they’re lying on their backs?" Jess asked, a grimace on her face and alarm in her voice as she flipped the page of the book in her lap.  
  
Luke turned around to look at her, his lips quirking up. "You're reading the book Trish gave you months ago." That was not a question.  
  
"Not much else to do at midnight when I'm not working." She licked the salt off her fingers, wiping her hands on her shirt—shit, that was _Luke's_ yellow shirt.  
  
"She won’t choke," Luke told her, eyebrows raised.  
  
"Because It'll never lie on Its back."  
  
Luke laughed that quiet laugh of his. "Anything else on your mind that you'd like to share?"  
  
God no. She wanted him to stay away from the things that happened in her head.  
  
"What if... she's like us?" Jessica inquired, eyes searching his face for reassurance.  
  
"You mean superpowered?"  
  
Jess sucked her teeth. "Whatever you want to call it."  
  
"Then she'll be like us," Luke answered. "Not much we can do 'bout that."  
  
He was getting closer, the way he always did when he could sense her palpable worries and wanted to do something to make her feel better. To make her stop thinking. He knew she wasn’t good at pillow talk (or talking in general, about anything that had any connection to deep feelings and shit). But they were good at touching. At biting questions and tattooing answers into each other’s skin. It worked for them.

"If It has unbreakable skin, vaccines will be a problem," Jessica reasoned.  
  
"If she has unbreakable skin, she probably won’t ever get sick," Luke pointed out.  
  
He cupped her face with one hand to bring her closer, then pressed a kiss to her temple. She liked how Luke always made things seem simpler. Or maybe it was her that always complicated things too much.  
  
Jessica really hoped this kid got all of Its traits from Luke. From the shape of his eyebrows, to his lips, his steadiness, the calmness in his eyes, his quiet vulnerability, his inner strength, his perseverance, his ability to forgive, the way he loved. But Jess hoped the kid got her sharp teeth and venom for when It needed to bite and poison. She wanted It to have some balance, some guidance. And as long as It had Luke's heart, she was sure the kid was going to be okay.  
  
"I'm gonna go take a shower," he said as he started to pull away.  
  
Jessica looked up at him. "No, you're not."  
  
There was challenge in his eyes. "Got anything else in mind?"  
  
"We can talk about it or you can find out."  
  
She was on her knees on the bed, hands on his belt, but there was more than just lust in Luke’s eyes.  
  
"Now, _that_ sounds like flirting," he joked and Jessica actually laughed through her nose because _goddamn it_ —that was how it all had started.  
  
"Stop teasing," she said, body pressed up against his, except—it was not going to work with Jupiter between them. "Pick me up," she instructed, and then Luke’s hands were on her butt, and she was wrapping her legs around his hips, rubbing herself against him as best as she could.  
  
Her back touched wall, and she leaned against it, exposing her neck to Luke while she fumbled to remove her panties.  
  
Then, finally, he was inside her, and she concluded that no matter how many of her threads got loose along the way, he'd always manage to sew her back together with a touch of his fingers.  
  
It didn’t take long for him to find the right spot inside her, hitting it over and over, and Jess was biting her lips so hard she could taste blood. When she moaned, it felt like release.  
  
And goddamn, it was _loud_.  
  
Luke stopped, pulling away slightly. She almost squirmed in his arms. "It's okay. Keep going."  
  
"Not sure we should go that hard."  
  
She wanted to argue and say it wasn’t _that_ hard, but there was wood dust pooling at their feet from the wall. Yep, definitely hard.  
  
She swallowed. "It’s okay," she repeated, because she’d know if something was wrong. Then lower, she added, "She's fine."  
  
She.

Their daughter.  
  
_Theirs_.  
  
She held onto him tighter when he restarted moving, nearly choking on some emotion trapped in her throat. She’d let it out later, some day in the future. No need to hurry. They had got time.  
  
  
                                                   

* * *

 

  
  
  
There was stuff _everywhere_. On the couch, on the floor, on the kitchen table, and even in the bathtub. Cans of wall paint sat casually on the floor of the soon-to-be-a-nursery bedroom, along with cardboard boxes and... other shit.

Jessica’s socked feet tried not to stomp on anything as she moved around, but she was eight months pregnant and not in the mood to jump over anything. So if something broke under her feet? Not her fault.  
  
"I think we could place the crib over there," Trish said, scrutinizing the room through squinted eyes.  
  
Jessica frowned. "No. Too close to the window."  
  
Trish turned her head to look at her. "And...?"  
  
"Sunlight and shit." She hated to wake up to a beam of sunlight straight on her face, so she figured the kid wouldn’t be too fond of it either. Although babies were nearly blind until about five months old— _ah, shit_ ; she had really absorbed all the crap she had read in those books.  
  
Trish seemed ready to argue, but changed her mind in the last minute. "Okay, so we put it across from the window."  
  
"Where should we put the shelves?" Malcolm asked from somewhere in the house. Not that Jessica remembered asking for his help. Then again, Malcolm didn’t _wait_ for people to ask for help. He had some sort of radar for that shit, and whenever it rang, he was right there, cape and all, willing to help.  
  
That must be a gift, Jessica thought. Far more useful than super strength and guided falling.  
  
" _What_ shelves?" Jess asked, handing Luke the crib rails for the crib he was assembling.  
  
"The ones we got for the plush toys," he said, rolling his eyes as if that was an obvious answer.  
  
"What fucking toys?"  
  
Malcolm stared at her for a minute, then, "You really shouldn’t swear around the baby."  
  
"Well, do you see her here? No. Because she’s not out yet."  
  
"She will be here soon," Luke commented, putting the crib mattress in its place. "Maybe we should keep a swear jar in the house.”

 Jessica simply snorted at his words, taking a few steps backwards to have a better view of the furniture. It was made of hardwood, and Trish had bought blue pillows and white sheets to decorate it. The worst part was that Jessica kind of liked the final result. It looked nice. Something that reminded her of Philip's childhood room. The memory was bittersweet, but not painful. It warmed her on the inside.  
  
Trish was frowning really hard in a way that made her look like she was constipated. "What now?" Jessica asked.  
  
"The walls are too blank."  
  
"That’s the opposite of a problem," Jess said.  
  
"We could paint something on the walls. Like clouds," Malcolm suggested, and that was… the beginning of Jess' nightmares.  
  
"That’s not gonna happen."  
  
"White clouds would look nice," Luke said from where he stood, working on the shelves.  
  
Jessica grimaced. "What? No. We do that, next thing we know there will be smiling birds among the clouds."  
  
"That’s a good idea," Trish said just to piss her off.  
  
"No, it's not. Where did all the plush toys come from anyway?" she asked, examining them without touching.  
  
"Robyn bought a few of them because she found them cute, and I bought a few others," Malcolm replied.  
  
Jess blinked. "Why?"  
  
"Because I wanted to, Jessica," he said, a grin on his lips, and Jessica had to avert her eyes because fuck him and his kindness and generosity.  
  
"Don’t forget to leave some room for the barbie house," Trish said, and Jess was sure the look on her face was one of pure horror. Then the dumbass laughed, her blonde hair falling over her face. "I'm kidding."  
  
They ended up with a few glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling and on the wall above the crib. Screw it. No smiling birds for any of them, though.  
  
  
  
                                                    

* * *

  
  
  
It was when her water broke that Jessica realized she was not prepared.  
  
She had _just_ left the shower and put on some clean pants when all that water came out of her (which, thanks kid, how considerate), and that was it. That was just _it_. The kid was supposed to stay in there for another two or three weeks, but there was no controlling this.  
  
It was time.  
  
She focused on fetching the duffel bag, with clothes and diapers, trying her best to avoid the horrifying thought that she was going to be responsible for another human being in a few hours. There was no time to panic.  
  
Jessica called Luke when she was ready to go, not even bothering to text Trish because she was well aware that Trish would freak the fuck out. Jess would let her know when she was already in the hospital.

Luke was, predictably, the personification of calmness on the phone.

“You okay?” he answered on the second ring.

“Yeah. My uterus, not so much.”

For a whole two seconds, Luke just breathed into the phone. “Baby’s ready?”

“Seems like it, given the amount of water I just expelled, plus the occasional contractions.”  
  
“I’m on my way. Wait for me and don’t do anything reckless.”

Jessica blinked. She had no idea how to respond to that so she said; “What, like fly to the hospital? Not on my to do list for today.”

Luke held her hand in the backseat of the taxi, drawing circles on her palm with his thumb. The pain was still bearable, but Jess let him comfort her anyway. She liked to have him touching her. It was something to come back to time after time.

Seeing Claire's face when they arrived at the hospital relaxed Jessica a little, because that nurse was someone who knew what to do when things turned to shit. So, in the worst scenario, if this indestructible kid decided to tear Jess open from the inside out, Claire would handle it _somehow_.  
  
Trish and Malcolm arrived an hour later, with Danny in tow. He was carrying too many _'Welcome Danielle!'_ balloons, and Jessica would have to point out later, when her back and uterus didn’t feel like they were submerged in acid, that— _she was not named after you and you shouldn't be this excited._  
  
Malcolm stayed in the waiting room with Karate Kid. Trish stayed with Jess in the delivery room to make sure she was fine.  
  
"Jess, I don’t think you should grip the bed railing that hard," Trish advised.  
  
"Screw that," Jess snapped, back burning, sweat pooling on her forehead, sticking her hair to her skin. "There’s a kid about to come out of me. I need something to break, or punch, or whatever."  
  
Luke's hand replaced the bed railing a second later. "That’s better," he said, a smile in his bright brown eyes.  
  
"I guess."  
  
For the next nine hours or so Jessica endured all the pain (well, at least life had been preparing her for that moment since day one), and hoped that things would work out fine for once. They _deserved_ that much, after all the shit they had been through.  
  
But then, finally, she was holding her daughter and counting all ten of her little fingers and, Jess thought, that was the purest and most perfect thing she had ever held in her arms. And she would _not_ corrupt it.  
  
( _Well done, Jones; that’s the best thing you’ve done and will ever do for the world._ )  
  
  
                                                 

* * *

  
  
  
Danielle Jones Cage was 7 pounds, 13 ounces. She was small, with tufts of black hair on her head, and eyes that were somewhat a mix between grey and brown. And she looked _exactly_ like Luke. From head to toe.  
  
She looked even smaller in Jess' arms, but her weight was comfortable against her chest, her breathing even against Jessica's skin.

“Sweet Christmas,” Luke marveled, and the clear joy in his eyes and voice put a knot in Jessica’s stomach.

“Yep; that’s when we conceived her,” she said, her voice raspy with tiredness.  
  
"She's beautiful," Luke said, staring down at their daughter.  
  
"Hmm," Jessica agreed, eyelids heavy.  
  
"Should we call the gang in?" Luke asked, his hand fondling Danielle's head.  
  
Jess shook her head. "Later."  
  
For now, she wanted it to be just the three of them.  
  
  
                                                      

* * *

 

 

Surprisingly, they fell into a routine easily.

Jessica liked to hold Dani, liked the light weight on her stomach, liked it when Dane closed her little hand around Jess' finger when she was asleep on top of Jess (and, by the way, Jessica was almost convinced that the kid was a little _too strong_ , but that was beside the point).

Luke liked to talk to her. He did it all the time in a soft, tender voice that he reserved only for Dani  (and occasionally Jessica, when it was too loud inside her head and she needed some guidance). Jessica liked to shower with her, Luke liked to bottle feed her when Jessica was out in the streets, working.  
  
She was easy to love. She gave them some stability, a purpose, or whatever. She was constantly smiling and making happy noises, and sticking her little tongue out and sucking on her little thumb. Jess' and Luke's sleep schedules were more messed up than ever, but other than that it had been easier than Jess had expected. Almost as simple as the life that had been ripped away from her when she was fourteen. It made her just as content.  
  
One night, she was cradling Dani in her arms in the nursery when Luke walked quietly into the room, leaning against the small white dresser next to the door.

"You should have woken me up," Luke's voice said, a familiar sound now, in the silence of their apartment.  
  
"It's okay. I'm used to staying up late."  
  
"So am I,” he reminded her, walking towards them.  
  
"It only took her an hour to fall asleep," Jessica said, leaning down to put Dani in the crib.  
  
She had been doing this mother thing for a few weeks now, but looking at Dani still left her speechless. She was more than Jessica had hoped, more than she knew what to do with. Much like her father. Fuck good genes and all that.  
  
"And that's good news?" Luke joked, placing his hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her.  
  
The night was calm. And for a split second, life felt almost too simple.  
  
Then.  
  
"I've been thinking," Luke paused, searching his brain for the best way to phrase what he wanted to say next. Which meant it was important. "Maybe we should make this official."  
  
Something cold settled in the pit of Jessica's stomach. "What?" she said to Dani rather than Luke.  
  
"We're already living together. We have a kid. We did everything backwards, but maybe we should do this right."  
  
Jessica focused on the rise and fall of Danielle’s small chest so she wouldn't panic or say anything stupid. Or both. Or worse.  
  
But there was a question hurting her tongue, demanding to be asked. "You want to marry me?" _Goddamn it_. She had no idea how to handle that.  
  
"Uhumm," Luke answered, like he, too, was still contemplating the idea.  
  
"I... Uh..." Jessica sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. "Since when?"  
  
She felt Luke's breath brush the nape of her neck as he laughed breathily. She shivered. A good kind of shiver. Something that reached her bones and made her blood race.  
  
"Since right now. Or maybe since I held Dani for the first time. Maybe ever since you told me you were pregnant. I don't know. It don’t matter. What _does_ matter is that I _want_ to marry you."  
  
Jessica felt her chest constricting. She swallowed hard. "Why?"  
  
"'Cos I do," he said, then took a deep breath and came to stand beside her. She could feel his eyes on her, but she could not, for the love of her, look at him right now.  
  
"Listen," he continued, voice even softer than before. "After everything that happened, I didn't think I'd have any of this. Didn't think I'd ever _want_ it. But ya changed that—ya may not know it, but you did. I fell for you when you were a mess—remember what a mess you were? And I fell in love with you then. So imagine how in love with you I am now. And that's the life I chose and I _like_ this life, ya get that? And I'm not going anywhere."  
  
_Fuck_. That was… too much. He was too much. This was all too much. Jessica needed to breathe but she was kind of suffocating.  
  
She wondered how long he had been turning the idea over and over in his head, afraid that it might scare her off. And a selfish, ragged part of her still wished he hadn't said it to her now.  
  
"It was too much," Luke noticed while Jessica faced her own inner crisis.

 She said nothing.

 "You gotta think 'bout it."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You don't have to do anything."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I'm just saying that if you want that,  then so do I."  
  
And it kind of fucking _hurt_ that he was always putting her first.  
  
"Luke,” she said, and he nodded.  
  
"We should go back to bed before we wake her up."  
  
She let him take her hand and lead her to their bedroom. Let him wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her gently until she was burning underneath him. Then she let him make love with her, and reminded herself that it was okay to be loved by him. And to want to be loved by him.  
  
It was okay. She was okay. They were okay.  
  
Life was okay.  
  
  
                                                      

* * *

  
  
  
  
The apartment was quiet when she arrived at 11pm, after chasing a cheating asshole around for two hours. (People were starting to hide better, find darker places to do their dirty work. Luckily for her, Jessica was familiar with both darkness and grey morals. They could never hide from her for too long.)  
  
Jess kicked off her boots and headed to the kitchen to drop the bags of food onto the table. There was an empty can of black beer in the sink, but Jess hadn't seen empty bottles of booze scattered around since the day she found out she was having a kid. Sometimes she missed the sourness on her tongue and the burn in her throat, but she was in a much better place now. She had no intention of letting that version of herself take over again. Jessica had seen and experienced self-destruction. It was not appealing.  
  
The scene that welcomed her when she entered their bedroom was a sight to remember—Luke, standing by the window, with Danielle in his arms. There was no reason for her heart to be pounding in her ears, but the expression on his face really took her aback. Not because it was unfamiliar, but because it was so vivid it was almost palpable.  
  
Happiness. Luke was happy. She could tell by the way he stood, with his shoulders relaxed and his head bent down, looking at their child. By the emotion in his brown eyes, the soft smile on his lips, and his inexistent worries.

This life, as crazy and troubled as it might be, made him happy.

It was then that it occurred to Jessica that she wanted that, too. She wanted to come home after a long day of work and find Luke playing with their kid. She wanted to go back to bed after being up for hours with Dani, and curl her body around Luke's, feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and know that she was safe. She wanted to keep that feeling somewhere in the marrow of her bones and be certain that she wasn’t stealing anything from him anymore, because he gave it all to her willingly, every day. She wanted to hold his hand, and kiss the corner of his lips, and fuck him until they were both wrecked and breathless.  
  
She had spent so long looking for something in her life that would make her feel slightly less broken, something that would fill in all the empty parts of her and maybe make her feel a little bit more whole. Saving New York, being called a hero, none of that had been enough. She was... not good enough (in every sense of the word). But this? She didn’t suck at it. And she liked this life. _God_ —she really did.  
  
Luke turned to the door, noticing her.  
  
"Hey," he said, smiling broadly at her.  
  
"Was she crying?" Jess asked, because although Danielle was almost five months old, she still cried like a newborn. (Maybe stress really _was_ bad for the kid after all.)  
  
"Nah. Just wanted to hold her." A smile tugged at one corner of Jessica's lips. She let it spread and reach her eyes.  
  
"I brought food," she stated.  
  
Luke nodded but didn’t put Dani back in the crib. He brought her to the kitchen with him, then lay her down in the navy blue baby stroller. Dani made low, happy noises in response, spit coming out of her mouth as she did so.  
  
Luke kissed Jess’ temple before fetching the plates for them to eat.  
  
Jessica took a deep, liberating breath. Then made a decision.  
  
"Yes," she said, voice coated in emotion, scratching a little around the corners.  
  
Luke glanced at her, setting the plates on the table. "Yes what?" His tone was amused, oblivious.  
  
Jessica's throat was kind of dry, but she pushed on, "To the question you asked a few nights ago."  
  
Luke stopped, eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to make sense of what she had just said. Then realization flickered across his face in a mix of surprise and expectation. "You... wanna marry me?"  
  
Emotion surged in her stomach right there, her skin prickling and her heart picking up speed like she had just run a thousand miles. (And she _had_. She had been running for so damn long. It was time to finally stop.)  
  
"You were right," she started, voice wavering. "We did everything backwards. And we should try to... do something right. For once. And I guess—” she closed her eyes for a second, heart pounding in the tips of her fingers, in her tongue, anywhere but her chest. She watched her walls crumble down to pieces as she said, "I love her and _you_ too much not to want it."  
  
When she opened her eyes again, Luke was _staring_. Not at her but almost _through_ her, and she had never felt so bare and raw in the 34-going-35 years she had lived in this fucked up, weird world.  
  
But saying that was one of the very few decisions that she didn’t regret.  
  
Especially when a wide smile spread across Luke's lips. Being the cause of _that_ was foreign, but made it all worth it.  
  
"You're marrying me," he said, as if tasting the words on his tongue.  
  
Jessica pressed her lips together and nodded,  her eyes not leaving his.  
  
He abandoned what he was doing and closed the distance between them, his hand cupping her face as he gently pulled her closer to him, until his lips touched her forehead. She stayed there for a moment because she fucking wanted to.  
  
"I knew it," he said against her skin, his free hand stopping on the small of her back, warm and comforting.  
  
"What?" she asked, pressing her nails into his flesh, feeling his steady heartbeat.  
  
"That you love me," she could freaking _feel_ the smile emanating off his words. "Didn't have to say it. I knew it."  
  
Well, good. She wouldn’t say that again for a goddamn long time.  
  
Dani made a little noise that resembled a giggle when Jess' lips found Luke's and Jess concluded that she had finally found her _‘a little bit more whole’_.  
  
Screw it. She was not going to fight her brain this time.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo, if you got to the end of this enormous thing, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!!!! Wow, sorry it got so long!
> 
> I kept some of the original dialogue from _Alias_ when Luke proposes to Jessica, because I've never read anything as beautiful as the words he says to her. He's the softest and corniest little thing and I LOVE HIM AND LOVE THEM.
> 
> I read and edited this fic about four times before posting it to catch as many typos as I could, so I'm sorry if I left something slip. Also, English isn't my first language, so I apologize for possible mistakes.
> 
> I know this fic is probably silly, but I had these very specific scenes dancing around in my head and I just needed to write them down. Also I really wanted to give Dani a proper introduction to this universe, since she's so loved in the comics (and since we're never gonna see her in the mcu lmao who else is bitter).
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it :D xxx


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